


can't sleep love

by meteormash



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Trans Male Character, also i LOVE obstagoon, piers desperately trying not to have a heart attack throughout the majority of this fic, some personal headcanons sprinkled in here and there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:33:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21929773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meteormash/pseuds/meteormash
Summary: But Raihan never failed to preoccupy each and every one of his thoughts.
Relationships: Kibana | Raihan/Nezu | Piers
Comments: 9
Kudos: 288





	can't sleep love

**Author's Note:**

> owo? what's this? i wrote something that WASN'T originshipping for once??? 
> 
> ok real talk i absolutely fell in love with piers and raihan while playing through swsh. raihan/leon is good but raihan/piers is criminally underrated and they're just so cute together! the goth/jock-esque dynamic they share is just... *chef's kiss* 
> 
> anyhow i've been working on this fic for several weeks now but mental health has been absolutely kicking my ass so it's taken me quite a long time to finish it, as you can see 
> 
> thank you @ my darling boyfriend, elias, for taking it upon himself to beta read this for me. love you babe.

Piers hadn’t expected to outlast the rest of the competition; in fact, he was baffled that he managed to make it through the semifinals, considering he was pitted against Dynamaxed Pokémon. Though he was ultimately bested by the Dragon-type Gym Leader, Raihan; and while his tactics were fairly simple, that Duraludon had utterly _demolished_ Piers’ team. Well, his loss did not come as a surprise to Piers; Raihan _was_ considered to be one of the strongest trainers in the entire region, second to that of the quote, unquote “Unbeatable Champion” himself. His partners had given it their all, and that’s all that truly mattered to him in the end.

Nevertheless, he opted to linger in the locker-room and spectate the remainder of the tournament despite his relative disinterest, for Marnie had been defeated during the semifinals. Though Piers supposed that he could root for the talented, young trainer that managed to overpower his younger sister… even if he felt a tad spiteful knowing it’s because of them that Marnie’s dreams would never be realized. Regardless, Team Yell has already offered their boisterous cheer and undying encouragement, megaphones drawn and banners waving; and Piers thought he may as well see if they’ll actually be able to surpass the unsurpassable.

With his gaze glued to the large television mounted on the wall, he watched as that aforementioned trainer and their signature Cinderace landed the finishing blow on Raihan’s Duraludon. It collapsed upon the field with a resounding _thud_ , given its immensity, and threw dust into the air. Duraludon was subsequently engulfed by a flash of reddish light and returned to the Poké Ball in Raihan’s hand. Moreover, the trainer held their fist up while their Cinderace let out a roar of victory.

Raihan was well-acquainted with the bitter taste of defeat, being the self-proclaimed rival of the greatest trainer in all of Galar— one who’s yet to be outmatched, at that— so he’s never groused about his losses. He’ll merely take out his smartphone and snap a few, _unnecessary_ selfies in commemoration of his failure. Piers supposed that he must remedy his crushed ego _somehow_. 

_But that’s what you get for bein’ overconfident to begin with_ , he thought. Then again, with his exceptionally low self-esteem, maybe Piers had no obligation to judge someone on terms of confidence.

Raihan would eventually join him and the other Gym Leaders in the locker-room, the automatic doors closing behind him with a low whirr. And much to Piers’ bewilderment, took a seat on the bench next to him, rubbing the back of his neck and yawning loudly. Piers silently prayed that Raihan would not engage in small talk with him, for he was not much of a conversationalist himself— even if there was a sense of camaraderie between the members of the League. And Raihan was extroverted, cheerful, and overall friendly— basically the exact opposite of himself, and he always knew that their personalities had never meshed well together.

Unluckily for him, Raihan began to speak; and while he was not looking at Piers directly yet, he felt himself stiffen. “I’ve gotta hand it to that kid— they’re pretty darn strong! Leon better watch his back, or the “Unbeatable Champion” may just find himself beaten at last,” he finished with a laugh.

When said trainer entered the locker-room, Raihan broke out into a wide grin and waved at them— and they returned the gesture with a slight upturn of their lips. Afterward, they were joined by their friend, Hop, who dragged them into a conversation, likely in preparation for the upcoming fight with his older brother. Raihan lowered his hand and glanced back at Piers, only to realize that he had attempted to slip away while he was distracted.

“Hey, Piersy!” An arm looped around Piers, thwarting his abscondment, and pulled him back down onto the bench. Their newfound proximity had tinted Piers’ cheeks with noticeable color, cursing his ghostly complexion, but Raihan thankfully did not comment on it. “Where are ‘ya off to so fast, mate? Aren’t you gonna stay and watch the rest of the tourney?” Raihan questioned, giving his shoulder a light squeeze— and Piers could scarcely prevent himself from flinching at the contact.

_I was plannin’ on it before ‘ya decided to show up and ruin my mood,_ Piers, however, opted to keep those words to himself, for Raihan was a genuinely good person and hardly deserved such scorn, but… His loud, ebullient demeanor was a bit overwhelming for him. Furthermore, Piers only gave him a hesitant shrug; and he sought to avoid those bright, blue eyes, lest the blush on his face darkened. He was the equivalence of a lovesick schoolgirl— and that thought utterly mortified Piers.

“By the way,” Raihan continued despite his lack of an answer, much to Piers’ relief, “I can’t believe you almost took down my team without Dynamaxing earlier— you’re a bloody incredible trainer, Piers.”

Ah, compliments. Piers was not well-acquainted with those, either. He has a habit of downplaying his abilities as a trainer, after all; and while Marnie and the rest of Team Yell preach constantly that he was much stronger and talented than his horrendous self-image led him to believe, their flatteries usually fell upon deaf ears. He was unsure about whether he should correct Raihan or simply brush it off… but Piers also had an inkling that he would not take silence as an answer again.

“I, uh… thanks,” was Piers’ eventual response, though spoken under his breath— barely hearable despite their nearness. “But— but I ain’t that good, really. Don’t forget that I was the one who ended up losin’ against you.”

“C’mon, Piers! There’s no need to be so modest,” insisted Raihan; and he flashed Piers with an enormous grin, those infamous ( _‘attractive_ ’, echoed a traitorous voice within Piers’ mind) fangs of his on display. “In the end, it doesn’t really matter whether you win or lose— what matters is that you and your partners gave it your all, right? And besides, I’m not lying when I say that you’ve got talent, Piers. A whole lot of it, in fact. You should be more confident in yourself.”

“Yeah, well, don’t go singin’ yer praises to me— I hardly deserve it. In comparison to the other Gym Leaders, I’m a joke. I don’t even Dynamax my Pokémon,” Piers managed to disentangle himself from Raihan’s grasp and reassumed his usual, hunched stance; hugging his arms and staring down at the floorboard. 

A gentle hand rested upon his shoulder, but Piers cannot bring himself to meet Raihan’s concerned gaze.

“That’s not true, mate. Even if you don’t believe me… just know that I think you’re pretty great.”

_Sure._

“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” Piers had mistakenly decided to offer the fellow Gym Leader a glance and he instantly regretted it. Heart palpitating at the sight of those deep, blue eyes, twinkling with a sense of childlike enthusiasm; and along with that wide, toothy (and annoyingly _precious_ ) smile of his, Piers feared that it would end up bursting. “Why don’t we have another match in the near future? By that, I mean— no big stadiums, no audience— and no Dynamaxing, either. Just two mates battling it out on their own terms. What do you say, Piersy?”

“Well—”

Alas, Piers was interrupted by an announcement that appeared over the intercom, requesting for the remaining challengers to make their final preparations and subsequently head into the pitch. Raihan immediately leaped from his seat— it would be uncharacteristic of him to observe such an important battle from a congested locker-room, as opposed to the front-row seats of the massive stadium. Piers, however, would remain seated upon the bench, gaze fixing on the television and arms folding across his chest, not offering Raihan a proper goodbye as he zoomed to the exit.

However, Raihan suddenly paused and retraced his steps, much to Piers’ perplexity, an eyebrow furrowing. He fished out his signature Rotom Phone and slid into the spot next to Piers, holding it out in front of them. “Piers, wanna snap a quick selfie together? It just occurred to me that you’re the only member of the League I’ve yet to get a picture with—”

“No way,” Piers grunted, shoving the device away from his face, which resulted in an irate noise from the creature that dwelled within. “Oh, sorry, Rotom,” he mumbled a quick apology, then glared back at Raihan— who wore a sad, puppylike frown, though it did little to sway his decision.

“But—”

“Jus’ hurry and get to the stadium, Raihan. Wouldn’t want to miss your boyfriend’s big match, eh?” Piers finished with a smug smile. He was satisfied with himself for successfully embarrassing the overconfident trainer, whose cheeks turned bright upon the accusation of _romance_ between him and his aforementioned rival. Though Piers only assumed that was the truth, given their undeniable chemistry together. Regardless, it was enough to compel Raihan’s legs forward, and he sped across the room without another word.

“—And I’ll consider yer proposition,” Piers called to him, bringing Raihan to a temporary standstill near the entryway as he glimpsed back at him. “I’ll give ‘ya my answer next time we happen to see one another."

“All right! ‘Till then, Piersy!”

Piers wished he would stop calling him that.

* * *

“Oh, Piersy!”

He presumed that their paths would not cross again, but Piers found himself waltzing into the Hammerlocke Stadium nevertheless. Entrusted with the burdensome task of babysitting a pair of reckless kids as they dragged him across the region on the hunt for Pokémon who’ve been forced to Dynamax against their wills and assist his colleagues in restraining them. Thankfully, Spikemuth— and, in turn, his younger sister— was relatively untouched by the disaster. However, he still wanted to help the innocent Pokémon that suffered at the hands of those ostensible royals in order further own, idiotic schemes. Furthermore, it was inevitable that he would encounter Raihan, a fellow Gym Leader, at some point during their heroic pilgrimage… yet he still recoiled when Raihan shouted at him from across the room, waving excitedly.

“ _Piersy_?” Hop echoed, smiling mischievously. Piers shot him a deadly glare, and his expression crumbled instantly. He was truly starting to resent that ridiculousnickname.

“Nice timing, you lot!” Raihan exclaimed; a hand resting against his hip and an enormous smile stretched across his lips… though Piers thought it was an expression ill-suited for their current conundrum. He could overhear the distant fracas of agitated giants from within the stadium; and he felt the vibrations that were sent through the ground, comparable to an earthquake, the result of their frantic pacing. The fact they had yet to destroy the castle was surprising, to say the least; and Piers wondered how Raihan has managed to maintain his composure while dealing with these colossal beasts. Dragon-types were already a difficult breed to tame, after all. But Raihan was known for his boundless optimism.

“The stadium’s just about reached its limit,” Raihan explained, “There’s simply too many Dynamax Pokémon running wild in there!”

“Seems Wishing Star power is bein’ used for some evil purpose,” Piers supplied, rubbing the back of his neck.

“So that’s what’s caused all this? That’s a problem, all right…” Raihan folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes in contemplation for a moment. But he did not allow himself to become wrapped up in his thoughts for too long, and ultimately shook his head. “But before we get that sorted, we’ve got to do something about these Dynamax Pokémon! I’m glad we’ve got you all here now,” he grinned, and while it was not specifically directed at Piers, a blush nevertheless crept onto his cheeks.

“Though we’ve already done a bulk of the work!” Raihan added. 

“We’re here to help!” Hop said, then gave his companion a quick glance. "Right?” 

They nodded in affirmation.

“Fantastic! Looks like we’ve got ourselves an unbeatable team! Especially you, Piers,” Raihan clapped a firm hand onto Piers’ back and caused him to lurch forward due to their stark difference in strength— which Raihan seemed unbeknownst to. Yet Piers was spellbound into silence by that radiant smile, annoyance vanishing on his tongue and the redness deepening. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about our match during the Champion Cup! You really had my Dynamax Pokémon up against the wall! Gotta say that I’m relieved to have your assistance.” 

“Ye— yeah, well,” Overcome with bashfulness, Piers was forced to avert his gaze; scratching awkwardly at his head and speaking in a voice barely above of a murmur. “Things might actually go better this time if we— we split up our little band.” Though Piers wasn’t focusing on the strategical aspects of the plan, rather using it as an excuse to momentarily elude Raihan and his insufferably bright gaze. However, Raihan complied and took a step away from him.

“Right! Everyone, split up so we can each take down one of the Dynamax Pokémon!” Raihan declared, raising a fist into the air. “Let’s do it!”

Piers had little difficulty in subduing the Dynamax Pokémon on his own, notwithstanding its augmented abilities and frenetic state of mind. He effortlessly overcame the behemoth with masterful tactics and overall patience— as expected of an individual of his stature. Once the creature had reverted to its natural form, he attempted to console it with gentle scratches under its chin; and when it crooned happily in response, Piers found himself smiling.

Afterward, he reunited with Raihan in the lobby— who was unsurprisingly tapping away at his smartphone, likely informing his followers of the phenomenon, with his back slanting against the nearby wall. Upon noticing Piers, he shoved the device back into his pocket and approached him with a pair of outstretched arms— but Piers, of course, denied him of the embrace, lips buckling into a glower.

“Good work, Piersy,” he settled for instead, smiling widely, that snaggletooth fully on display. Piers only grumbled and fruitlessly wiped at the redness on his face; it was as though Raihan had afflicted him with a permanent status condition.

When Hop and his partner eventually returned from their own, respective missions, Raihan bent down and high-fived them simultaneously. “You guys are the greatest!” Raihan commended, then straightened his stance and reequipped his smartphone, nails clinking against the glass. “You really got me out of a tough spot here! I think I’d better snap a quick one to remember this victory by— say ‘cheese’!”

While Hop and his friend posed triumphantly for the camera as Rotom flittered above, Piers hastily ducked his head as they were enveloped in a succession of flashes. Rotom floated back into the hand of its owner, and he briefly scrolled through the pictures— and Piers had a feeling the pout that followed was due to his own unwillingness. However, Raihan quickly reassumed his sunny demeanor.

“I’ll take care of all the Pokémon that went wild. No need for you all to worry about that,” he reassured, “Give me a ring if things should go to the pot again, ‘kay? I’m always happy to lend a hand if I can,” Raihan paused and placed his hands on his hips, chest puffed out proudly. “The Great Raihan is here for you anytime!”

“Oh, right! Piersy,” he swung an arm around Piers and pulled him into a one-sided hug, while Piers’ eyebrow furrowed in blatant displeasure. Raihan, of course, was oblivious to it. “Have you given the proposal I made to ‘ya during the Champion Cup any thought? About us having another match at some point— and without Dynamaxing, I mean.”

“This really ain’t the time for that, y’know,” Piers retorted; however, he, even now, could not bring himself to look at Raihan properly. Gaze pointed at the floor, blush indelibly upon his front; Raihan was the only individual with the ability to reduce the obstreperous, smart-mouthed leader of Spikemuth to a bumbling preteen with a crush. “We’ve got to stop a couple o’ loonies from destroyin’ the region; I was dragged into this mess, so I’m seein’ it through ‘till the end,” he added, scratching his head.

“Yeah, I understand. I think it’s great that you decided to help out those kids— well, the whole region, really,” rubbing Piers’ shoulder as though to placate him, Raihan finished in a whisper, “You’re a great person, Piers.”

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

His heart felt as if it was going to burst at this rate. Piers inhaled deeply; his face had taken on a shade equivalent to that of a Tamato Berry. “Come— come to Spikemuth once— once this whole fiasco is over and done with,” he said sheepishly; Piers was embarrassed by how _small_ his voice had become, and it’s due to Raihan and his stupid, lopsided grin and piercing blue eyes and smooth voice— Arceus. He was in too deep.

“I’ll, uh— I’ll accept yer challenge then,” he mumbled. Afterward, Piers slipped out of Raihan’s embrace and scurried across the hall to reunite with Hop and the others, his chest hammering wildly as he attempted to focus on the task at hand.

But Raihan never failed to preoccupy each and every one of his thoughts.

* * *

In the depths of the night, the backstreets of Spikemuth are commonly astir with cheer. Hordes of roaring enthusiasts teem the mosh pit, their shirts and banners emblazoned with the jagged logo of his gym; and adorned in gaudy face paint and cheap jewelry. The cacophonous clangor of their bellows, combined with the grating sounds produced by their instruments, echoed a deafening melody throughout the small district. But he needn’t concern himself with the possibility of disturbing the poor souls that lay awake in their homes, for all of Spikemuth were gathered at his feet; headbanging and chanting his name.

His grip on the microphone stand tightened; his lips a hairsbreadth away from the pop filter as he led the song into a gradual crescendo. The hype amplified; their adulations drowned out by the screeching of guitar strings and the hammering of drumsticks. With sweat dripping off his chin, he broke out into a wide grin and momentarily removed the microphone from its stand, allowing it to drop before kicking it back upward. The crowd seemed to appreciate this little trick of his, for their voices grew louder, hands rising in a hornlike gesture.

The performance was approaching its culmination; Piers opted for another trick, kneeling onto the ground, stand in hand, disregarding the burning of his overused throat as he screamed the remaining lyrics. As he struck a finishing pose, applause erupted through the crowd in the form of shouts and whistles, begging him for an encore; but Piers knew that he would ultimately ruin his voice if he heeded their pleas. He regained his footing, breaths labored, hair frazzled and disenthralled from its tie, and leaned on the stand for support.

“Thanks again for comin’ out here tonight, you lot! Don’t worry— I’ve got tons o’ more songs planned for ‘ya, so feel free to drop by again tomorrow!” Piers announced; his voice raspy, but still intelligible despite neglecting it. “And don’t forget to nab some merch while yer at it, if ‘ya wanna help out the town. I’d appreciate it a _real_ lot,” he concluded with a wink.

As the crowd began to dissipate, Piers sighed and rested his forehead against his hands, still gripping the microphone stand lest he ended up falling. Though he loved to perform, he always felt drained in the aftermath; he will likely collapse onto the couch the moment he returns to his apartment. One of his bandmates offered him a towel and Piers accepted it with a nod of gratitude but was interrupted before he could bring it to his face. He recognized the voice instantly; and his chest began to throb, staring slack-jawed at the hooded man who stood at the base of the stage.

“Crikey, Piers,” Raihan exhaled, pushing back the hood; he had probably donned it to conceal his identity, given that he is a practical celebrity (though he usually coveted the attention.) “That was amazing. I already knew you were talented, but _jeez_ … you’ve got quite the voice on ‘ya, huh?”

“Rai—Raihan?” Piers stammered; and he clutched the stand tighter, though it was out of nervousness rather than exhaustion. “What— what the ‘ell are ‘ya doin’ ‘ere?”

“For our battle, remember?” When Piers gave him an incredulous look, Raihan cleared his throat and decided to elaborate. “You said that I should come to Spikemuth whenever that whole dilemma with the Dynamax Pokémon was resolved… I tried to call you in advance, but your cell was turned off. Sorry to show up unannounced.”

“N-no, 's fine,” he mumbled. Upon noticing that his bandmates were giggling to one other from the corner of his eye, Piers shot a hasty glare in their direction, silencing them immediately. Afterward, Piers turned to Raihan, though his gaze was ultimately beckoned to the floor instead. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Listen, I— I’m pretty exhausted after that performance. Maybe— maybe another time?”

He nearly cringed when patent disappointment flashed across Raihan’s face, but he quickly masked it with a smile. “Yeah, sure! Guess that means I’ll need to stay here in Spikemuth for the night… Where’s the nearest hotel at?”

“Hotel", he says,” Piers chuckled and shook his head. “We can’t afford to build fancy hotels ‘ere in Spikemuth. You’d be better off walkin’ back to Hammerlocke,” he stated as he brought the towel to his flushed face, wiping away at the moisture. “Or maybe hitchin’ a ride on one of yer dragons.”

“It’s late, though,” Raihan argued. Then, it seemed as though a metaphorical lightbulb manifested above his head, eyes glimmering with realization. He placed a hand on Piers’ shoulder and nearly startled him into dropping the dampened cloth. “Why don’t I just stay at your place for the night? Then we can have our battle tomorrow— if you’re still up for it, I mean.”

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

Piers grabbed his heart as it sang louder; louder than the adoring crowds; louder than the beatings of the drum; louder than his own, strident melodies. And Piers feared that he would end up falling without the assistance of the microphone stand, resting upon the stage while he stood defenseless in front of a man that was capable of shattering his confidence with only a few, simple words.

He gulped. “No.”

The rejection appeared to genuinely hurt Raihan, his lips buckling into a frown; it was as if the sun itself had disappeared behind a group of dark clouds, no longer bathing him in its golden light. Therefore, Piers quickly rephrased his response; it seemed like he could not handle such an expression— not upon the face of the person he cared for so deeply. “I—I mean… you can if ‘ya want to. It’s just, uh… there’s not that much room, and it’s kinda messy, and—”

Raihan waved his hand dismissively. “That doesn’t concern me one bit, Piers. I may live in a castle, but ‘ya don’t have to treat me like royalty.” He laughed.

“Ri— right.”

“Well, Piersy,” he paused and swung an arm around Piers’ shoulder. Though their newfound proximity had caused the redness on his face to deepen slightly, Piers was silently grateful for this makeshift crutch; it felt like his legs would give out underneath him at any moment, after all. “Lead the way.”

_Arceus_ , help him.

Piers usually did not invite people over to his apartment; it’s not as if he had many friends outside of his bandmates and the members of Team Yell, but they opted to spend their time together carousing in the alleys until daybreak. And since his younger sister left to journey the region, he hadn’t the thought to keep the apartment tidy in the event of… unexpected guests. The filth and general clutter didn’t particularly bother him, after all. But now he is faced with the mortifying ordeal of forcing his longtime crush to sleep on a short, springy couch; the cushions stained and moth-eaten, mostly due to his Obstagoon’s insatiable hunger but arguably his own indifference as well. Well, it’s not as if Piers had the funds to replace any of the old furniture anyway. Still, he feared that Raihan— even if he claimed that the mess would not perturb him, despite his affluent background— would end up judging him regardless. After Piers had unlocked the door, his hand stilled on the handle; he needed a moment to recollect himself, believing that his friendship with Raihan could potentially end once they step inside.

Piers exhaled deeply. _Well, he’s already ‘ere. Can’t send ‘em home now, I guess._ And while that did little to appease his nerves, he nevertheless held the door open for Raihan and hastily followed behind him. Upon relocking the door, he began to feel around the wall for the light switch before eventually flicking it upward. Once the darkness had been dispelled, Raihan was able to properly take in their surroundings; albeit the expression on his face was mostly unchanged. And Piers didn’t know if he should feel relieved or panicked by that fact.

The apartment itself was rather compact; though that likely did not come as a surprise to Raihan considering that Piers, and the other inhabitants of Spikemuth, faced destitution. Trash was strewn all over the floor, which predominantly comprised of empty pizza boxes and half-drunk soda bottles— a typical diet for that of a struggling, penniless millennial. Wrinkled clothes lay untended upon the back of the couch; though some had apparently slipped off, joining the litter underneath. Piers lacked the standard amenities found in most households, such as a television set or game consoles, instead opting for a cheap radio that he had picked up at a flea market several years prior, perched upon an end table next to a framed photograph of him and Marnie when they were younger. And truly, he preferred to have heating and water above entertainment. The kitchen was merely a step away, and it did not provide a comfortable amount of space, but Piers never complained as it still supplied him with the necessities: An ancient, though astonishingly operable fridge; cupboards that were stocked sparsely with food, as he honestly did not require much sustenance to function, and drawers filled with plastic silverware.

Rooms lined the small hallway, belonging to him and Marnie respectively. Overwhelmed with exhaustion, Piers usually wounded up unconscious on the couch just moments after returning home; he did not spend much time in his bedroom, to say the least. Piers nearly trembled at the thought of the utter _chaos_ waiting for him in there.

In the end, Raihan had refrained from commentating on Piers’ unspeakable living conditions; wordlessly doffing his shoes by the doorway before traveling to the couch. Either it truly did not bother him in the slightest, or he was just being polite— Piers will probably never know. Regardless, he decided to join him after shucking off his jacket and tossing it unceremoniously onto the floor, with one of his boots to follow shortly thereafter. However, as Piers grabbed the heel of his other boot, preparing to remove it, he suddenly toppled over when a flash of black and white collided into him from behind. Raihan immediately sprang up. “Piers—?!”

Tongue lolling; claws digging lightly into his shoulders and lathing his face in saliva, a grin stretched across Piers’ lips as he patted his Obstagoon’s head. “Hi there, buddy. Miss me?” Obstagoon yipped excitedly in response and continued to assault it’s master with licks, and most would probably find the act nothing short of disgusting, but Piers only laughed. Though it seemed that Obstagoon was unbeknownst to their once-in-a-lifetime guest.

“Look,” Piers managed to redirect it’s attention to the man sitting upon the couch, mouth agape and eyes widened— and Piers himself was unsure what exactly had prompted such a reaction from Raihan, but maybe it was due to his rare smile. “We’ve got ourselves a visitor. You remember Raihan, don’t ‘ya?”

Obstagoon climbed off Piers’ lap and approached the aforementioned trainer, ears perked with curiosity; and Raihan appeared hesitant, given it’s traditionally aggressive nature. However, when he opened a palm for Obstagoon to inspect, he immediately felt at ease; nose pressed gently against the flesh, sniffing cautiously, and Raihan decided to his other hand to scratch the underside of it’s chin. Obstagoon began to purr, crawling onto the couch and resting it’s head upon Raihan’s thigh and rolled over. Raihan took the initiative and rubbed it’s belly, which Obstagoon seemed to enjoy greatly as it’s tongue sagged, leg bouncing happily.

“Huh. It usually takes Obstagoon a while to warm up to people,” Piers said, taking a seat on the edge of the couch.

“Sounds like somebody else I know,” his friend joked, and Piers’ eyes rolled in response.

“Oh, shut yer gob,” he huffed, resting an elbow on the arm of the couch and pressing his knuckles against his cheek, legs crossing in the process. “Anyway, are ‘ya hungry? We don’t got much here, but I can try to whip somethin’ up for ‘ya real quick.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Raihan reassured; though he was seemingly more preoccupied with the drooling creature on his lap, now scratching behind Obstagoon’s ears, grinning as it continued to purr. Fingernails dug into one of his knees in an attempt to calm himself; Piers could not _believe_ that he was beginning to feel jealous of his own Pokémon.

Piers scoffed and took out his smartphone, though he had only meant to check the time— a quarter after midnight, it read in bold text. If it were not for the fact he was currently in the presence of the man he’s loved since childhood, then Piers would have collapsed at this point. But if he is to lie awake bemoaning about his unrequited feelings until the break of dawn, then he may as well do it from the comfort of his own bed.

“Raihan, it’s— it’s gotten pretty late,” Piers said, “We’d ought to get some shut-eye, y’know? Lemme fetch ‘ya some blankets,” and he sped down the hallway without waiting for a proper reply, searching through the congested closet for anything that resembled cloth. Eventually, Piers returned with an armful of threadbare sheets; though they thankfully lacked any discernible cavities and were thick enough to provide _some_ warmth.

“Thanks, pal.”

Piers momentarily departed for the bathroom in order to brush his teeth and change into loose-fitting nightwear and left his binder dangling on the edge of the sink. Afterward, he stepped into the kitchen for a brief moment, seeking a glass of water before bed… only for him to end up choking when Raihan suddenly commented on his attire, which comprised of a plain shirt and patterned pants— specifically stripes and little Zigzagoons. “Cute PJs,” he grinned; and Piers cleared his throat, pretending as if he hadn’t overheard his words but could not prevent himself from slamming the cup onto the countertop.

“Going to bed?” Raihan asked when Piers began to head down the hallway, with Obstagoon hounding after him, but he only replied with a meek nod. “All right, then,” he settled onto his back, the couch screeching underneath him as he adjusted himself, trying to find a comfortable position. It was at that moment when Piers realized that Raihan was longer than the couch itself, with his feet dangling off the edge, neck arched awkwardly, and the worn, flattened pillows hardly helped. But Raihan refused to complain; he just gave Piers one of his infamous, toothy grins. “Goodnight, Piersy. Hope ‘ya sleep well,” he added.

Dammit.

Piers pressed his forehead against the door of his bedroom and inhaled sharply. It would be downright cruel to force Raihan to sleep on a literal piece of junk— one that barely accommodated his physique, at that. His own bed was quite ancient, but nevertheless larger and could easily occupy another person if necessary— but the palpitations of his heart; the hotness of his cheeks; the trembles that shook his body; it was all simply too much for Piers to handle. The mere thought of sharing a bed with Raihan almost brought him to his knees.

But he was not as heartless as to deprive Raihan of basic hospitality. Therefore, Piers plucked up his courage and maneuvered slowly down the hall, as though his legs had turned to lead. Raihan opened a single eye and looked up at him as he stood behind the couch; eyes averted, rubbing his forearm anxiously. “Something the matter?”

Piers took in a deep breath, hesitating. The blush had crept to the tips of his ears, and he hoped that Raihan wouldn’t notice. “… We can… I mean… if… if ‘ya want to… my bed’s prolly a lot more comfortable… and there’s more room… so…” He trailed off when Raihan suddenly jumped up from the couch, his eyes practically _sparkling_ , smiling enormously. Piers would have gulped if not for the fact that his throat was completely dried. 

“R-right, well… follow me.”   
  


Of course, it was impossible for him to sleep. For the incessant murmurings of his chest intercepted the sense of quietude he so desperately longed, in spite of his rambunctious nature. The bed was _definitely_ preferable over the old, begrimed couch, teetering on verge of collapse; however, it was nevertheless small, forcing their backs together, and he could feel each breath that Raihan took. At least he had managed to fall into a deep, peaceful slumber, unlike Piers; though the performance had exhausted him to his core.

Eyes flickered across the room; in the darkness, he could scarcely make out the posters hanging on the walls, alluding to other bands and artists that he favored. Piers found himself staring at a particular piece of merchandise that was shipped to him from the Unova region— a relatively obscure group from Virbank City, spearheaded by none other than its resident Poison-type Gym Leader, Roxie. In spite of her young age, she was an incredibly talented vocalist; and upon discovering one of her albums, Piers immediately became a fan. If only Piers had the confidence to request a possible collaboration in the future.

Obstagoon was curled into a giant, fluffy ball at the foot of the bed; and Piers wanted to reach down and stroke its fur as a means of comfort but feared that any movements would startle Raihan into wakefulness, given their close proximity. Therefore, he lay completely still with arms wrapped tightly around his torso, not bothering to adjust the blankets as they dangled off the edge of the bed. Attempting to conciliate himself with deep breaths, though sought to remain as silent as possible; he did not want Raihan to witness him in such an embarrassing state, after all. With reddened cheeks, wide, unsure pupils, and the light trembles that rippled across his body.

This was simply too much for him to handle.

“Piers,” he flinched at the sudden utterance of his name; a gasp on his tongue, but he managed to trap it with his teeth, gritting. Piers could not bring himself to shift and properly face the other man, however. “Are you still awake?” Raihan asked. 

“Ye— yeah,” Piers stuttered, his voice but a mere whisper.

“Can’t sleep, can you?”

_No shit,_ he bit on his lip to prevent the curse from slipping out. _And it’s your fault,_ but Piers wasn’t going to make his obvious affections even _clearer_ by telling him the full truth, so, he decided to rephrase it. “I’m—I’m used to sleepin’ alone, y’know? It’s hard to fall asleep when there’s somebody right next to ‘ya.”

That did not apply to Marnie, though. She would oftentimes climb into Piers’ bed uninvited when she was young, for without the presence of a mother to console her after a particularly troubling nightmare, an older brother was the next best thing. Not that it ever bothered Piers, of course. However, Raihan— the man he’s been pining for since they were but preteens— was an entirely different ballpark.

“Sorry if I’m causing you trouble, Piers. I should’ve just gone home,” Raihan sighed; and it was at that moment when Piers finally realized that they were no longer back-to-back, for he felt Raihan’s breath against his nape, and he could not help but shudder. Piers wondered if his heart would be able to last through the night.

“Then— then why didn’t ‘ya?” He retorted though the curtness of his tone was unplanned. Piers was genuinely curious as to why Raihan decided to remain in Spikemuth, in spite of the short traveling distance between it and his hometown— especially while soaring through the skies upon one of his dragons.

“Maybe it was all an elaborate ploy to spend time with you?” Raihan chuckled. At first, Piers assumed it was merely a joke; however, when a pair of strong arms suddenly coiled around his waist, pulling him closer, it seemed as though there was some truth to Raihan’s words after all. Piers’ breath hitched; Raihan doubtless noticed the body within his grasp shake harder, and the scarlet streaking his ears darken. Yet Piers _still_ refused to look at him, lest he divulged words better left unsaid.

“Piers, do you remember how we first met?”  
  


He does. How could he possibly forget such a significant event from his childhood? Piers was traversing through Hammerlocke with his Linoone— and he was much meeker and even _less_ confident than he is now, surprisingly. A complete pushover— one that neighborhood bullies would hastily flock to as a means of entertainment. Though Linoone was a powerful Pokémon, even at its middle-stage evolution, they had decided to gang up on it; and regardless of skill, it didn’t stand a chance in a four-on-one battle— nor his other companions at the time. Left defenseless to their brutality, it resulted in Piers curled up on the ground, weeping loudly and marred in fresh bruises. All he could do was shield his ears from their disparagement and silently beg for salvation.

“ _Hey_!” Echoed a sudden voice; and Piers lifted his head, turning toward the end of the alleyway. A boy accompanied by a Vibrava stood white-knuckled, scowling, practically baring his fangs at the bullies. They paled at the sight of him; a sense of bitter familiarity that compelled them to take a step backward. “ _Leave him alone!_ ” And Piers recalled that instead of engaging in an actual battle against their Pokémon, Raihan had taken matters into his own hands— literally. They scampered off with bloody noses and blackened eyes, while his Vibrava was preoccupied with comforting Piers, nuzzling his cheek and droning softly. 

“ _Are you okay?_ ” Raihan had asked, hand outstretched, and that enormous grin he would come to adore stretching across his face— snaggletooth and all. Upon hoisting Piers back onto his feet, he took out a handkerchief and handed it to him— which Piers hesitated to accept out of embarrassment, but ultimately decided that he should do something about the snot dripping down his nose. Sniffling, he averted his eyes from Raihan and blew, while using his sleeve to wipe at his eyes.

“ _Want me to escort you to the Pokémon Center?_ ” Piers was unable to offer an actual response before Raihan had grabbed his forearm, leading him through the backstreets; and Piers hadn’t thought to resist.

“ _Name’s Raihan, by the way. You?_ ” He glanced back at Piers with a pair of bright eyes; and Piers found himself answering unhesitatingly, in spite of his diffidence.

“ _Pi— Piers_.”

“… I recall ‘ya beatin’ the snot out of some poor kids,” Piers said with a laugh. “… ’Ya saved my arse, though. I never thanked you for that, did I?”

Raihan shook his head. “It’s unnecessary. Just wish we could’ve met under better circumstances, so I can look back on that memory fondly and not picture you all beaten up and cryin’. But,” he sighed into monochrome hair; the grip around his waist tightening and Piers clenched his teeth harder. “… I wouldn’t regret meeting you, Piers. Never.”

“Rai—”

“I’m not as oblivious as you may think I am,” Raihan interrupted. “I just didn’t wanna force you into anything that you weren’t ready for. I was waiting for _your_ confession before I made a move… but,” lips a hairsbreadth from his ear, the remainder of his words hushed, and Piers was forced to hold his breath. “… I don’t think I can wait any longer, Piers. I want you to know how I feel about you.” 

“… And... and how _do '_ ya feel 'bout me?" 

Raihan smiled. “… I love you, Piers. I have for a long time, now.”

Hesitation. Staring at the wall; breathing heavily; heart threatening to burst— Piers could easily compose a song based on the emotions that were shooting through his body like bolts of lightning. But he could not remain obmutescent forever; if he is to overcome this immense obstacle in his life and move forward, then he must open his mouth like does onstage. Though a murmur, it was nevertheless the truth.

“Raihan… I… me… me too…”

Instead of riposting with the expected, “I know,” Raihan urged Piers to turn around in his arms; and while he complied, eye contact was seemingly out of the question. “Piersy,” he cooed, cupping Piers’ cheek and beginning to caress it with his thumb. “… Piersy, look at me.”

“Stop callin’ me that,” Piers grumbled.

“But why? It’s a cute nickname,” he grinned and planted a kiss upon the bridge of Piers’ nose— and he honestly assumed that he did not have the compacity to blush harder, but Raihan proved him otherwise. “Cute just like you.”

Piers groaned loudly and shoved his face into his hands, only for Raihan to immediately pry them apart. “C’mon, sweetheart. Don’t hide from me,” he pouted.

“Don’t— don’t call me that, either!”

“What should I call you, then?”

Fingers wound roughly into the front of Raihan’s shirt and tugged him closer. Overtaken by impatience, after untold years of believing that his love was impossible yet yearning for it regardless. “I think you should just shut up and kiss me already,” he blurted. Initially, Raihan was taken aback by the sudden action; his eyes widened, hand twitching against Piers’ cheek. But his lips eventually rose, and he leaned inward.

Piers neglected to mention his inexperience, as he has only rehearsed in daydreams prior— and Piers always thought of those as impossible scenarios anyway. But Raihan kissed him with utmost gentleness as if he feared that Piers would shatter in his hands otherwise; with a thumb continuing to stroke his cheek, seeking to pacify him, while the other cradled the back of his head. And Piers found that his imagination scarcely compared to the real thing; that Raihan was able to set his body aflame with such a simple gesture, the sensation unequaled to anything he has felt before.

They separated; Piers was forced to breathe, for he had temporarily forgotten how to. Basking in Raihan’s smile, comparable to that of sunlight, and filling him with warmth. And Piers smiled, too.

“Raihan.”

“Hm?”

Lips pressed against his chin; fingers interlacing, and a soft voice laced with adoration. “I love you.”

“About time,” Raihan joked before bringing him into another kiss. 

They still opted to have a battle the following day, and Piers ultimately triumphed. Raihan wanted to take a photograph with him in commemoration of his well-deserved victory; and this time, Piers did not avert his eyes. 

Later, he noticed that it had become his boyfriend’s lock-screen. 


End file.
